


It's a Love Story (Baby, Just Say Yes)

by blackkat



Series: Ridiculous KakaObi AUs [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Crack, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Oh my god</i>, Obito, I don’t <i>care</i> that you keep turning our roommates into mindless zombies devoted to serving your will, but in the name of everything holy, <i>at least stop putting them in thrall when you're singing Taylor Swift songs in the shower</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Love Story (Baby, Just Say Yes)

**Author's Note:**

> For a “I’m a siren and I keep accidentally forgetting that I have roommates now and end up putting them in my thrall when I’m singing in the shower” AU prompt, again from Tumblr. Because that place is full of bad ideas and it is _glorious_. 
> 
> The title is, of course, from Taylor Swift. This was written with a fractured wrist, and as such errors likely abound. I’ll come back and check it when I'm not on painkillers anymore, sorry!

In his defense—not that Obito _needs_ to defend himself, because there's absolutely nothing wrong and he hasn’t done anything that is in any way reprehensible—Obito is used to living alone. He’s spent the last twenty years an orphan, a ward of the influential and terminally absentee Uchiha family, and twenty years is more than enough time to settle into…habits. Not _bad_ habits, because he is, as stated, not doing anything _wrong_ , but…little things. Like leaving the toilet seat up, or putting the spices in reverse alphabetical order when he gets bored, or shoving Rin’s B-positive to the back of the fridge where it won't squick him out. Like opening the curtains on the night of a full moon, because he forgets that he’s living with a werecat now. Like sometimes leaving the volume all the way up on the stereo, since he likes loud music and forgets that his roommates might want to listen to something at three in the morning without their neighbors calling the police.

Like singing in the shower, and forgetting that the bathroom has oddly excellent acoustics for being attached to a shithole apartment.

Obito likes to think of himself as a morning person. He can rise with the sun and be more or less cheerful about it, but there's one catch. Without his usual ritual, he might as well be a hungover night owl with a six a.m. chem lab. It’s simple, nothing elaborate—a short, blisteringly hot shower, a good cup of French Roast coffee, and a few minutes just to breathe—but he needs it if he’s going to be anything close to functional for the rest of the day.

Therefore, it’s a jarring and entirely unwelcome surprise to open the bathroom door, nothing but a towel around his waist, to find the most adorable vampire in existence planted firmly in front of it, arms crossed over her chest and expression set in a warning glower.

“Rin!” Obito yelps, clutching at his far too skimpy towel as though doing so will protect him from the oncoming storm of his best friend on the warpath. “Boundaries! I'm _naked_!”

Rin levels him with her most deeply unimpressed expression, which has been known to make hospital interns quiver in their sensible, cushioned shoes. “We used to share baths,” she points out flatly.

“When we were _five_ ,” Obito hisses back, and he is nowhere near dressed enough for this argument. “Back then most people thought we were both girls!”

That _might_ be a spark of amusement, deeply buried behind the exasperated rebuke in Rin’s smoky brown eyes, but it could also be Obito's imagination. The latter is more likely, especially when Rin snaps an arm out, snags him by the ear, and turns on her heel, marching smartly for the kitchen.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Obito complains, but he’s learned by now that it’s better to go along with her than try—and inevitably fail—to wriggle out of her grasp, either metaphorical or literal. He opens his mouth to demand to know what this is about, but before he can voice so much as the first syllable his feet hit tile, and with one look he knows.

God _damn it_.

Kurenai is standing at the stove, her pan of what probably used to be scrambled eggs scorching merrily away under her frozen spatula, in grave danger of setting off the smoke alarm and earning them the eternal ire of everyone in their building. Her eyes are absolutely blank, her expression dreamy, and she’s swaying slighting in place.

Next to the fridge, Yamato is in much the same state, and the coffee cup he was probably attempting to fill is overflowing onto the counter, the pot in his hand all but empty. That would normally be enough to piss Obito off, because his coffee is the one luxury he allows himself, and the always the very best he can afford. But in this case…

Yeah. Habits or no, this is undeniably his fault. Oops.

Obito winces, trying very, very hard not to meet Rin’s eyes as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Um. I totally didn’t mean to do that, in my defense.”

Rin’s expression pulls into something perilously close to a pout. She’s a nigh-immortal creature of the night with an unholy thirst for blood, but when her lips do that twisty thing and her eyes do that puppy thing, it gets kind of hard to remember that. “We’ve been _over this_ , Obito,” she huffs, releasing him to plant her hands on her hips. “For the love of god, stop _enthralling_ them!”

“ _I'm sorry for my biology, okay_ ,” Obito hisses back, waving his arms and only just remembering to catch his towel in time to preserve what modesty he has left. “You know, my life would have been a whole lot easier if I could have been a seer like the rest of my family, it’s not like I _asked_ my old man to knock up a _goddamned siren,_ Rin.”

“It is not a _biological imperative_ that you must sing in the shower, Obito,” Rin counters, “and don’t you dare try to tell me it is, that didn’t work with the pool thing in fifth grade and it won't work now, this is all _on you_ —”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad! They're just—just sleepy! And—and _happy_! They're going to be cheerful all day thanks to me, and you can't just—”

“If we lose _more roommates_ because you can't keep from hitting a few high notes, I am taking their part of the rent money out of _your_ account—”

“That is discrimination, you are _discriminating against me_ because of what I am—”

“ _Oh my god_ , Obito, I don’t _care_ that you keep turning our roommates into mindless zombies devoted to serving your will, but in the name of everything holy, _at least_ _stop putting them in thrall when you're singing Taylor Swift songs in the shower_.”

“Er,” Yamato says into stretching silence as they glare at each other. He shakes himself a little, then sets the coffee pot down. “I honestly don’t mind the thrall part. But now I'm going to have _Love Story_ stuck in my head all day. Can't you at least make it Lady Gaga, if you have to go with obnoxious pop?”

There's a sharp click as Kurenai turns the heat off under her eggs, looking down at them with a mournful sigh. “What he said,” she agrees. “I'm not one to judge you for what's in your blood, Obito. After all, I'm the one getting extremely hairy once a month. But…the chance to keep at least a little of our dignity would be nice.”

“Sorry,” Obito mutters, vaguely guilty.

“No, no.” Yamato waves him off with a vaguely philosophical air. “This is one of the perils of being bisexual, I understand. Male and female sirens are equally dangerous to me. I should have expected something like this to come up when I was moving to this city. It has…what, the highest percentage of supernatural bloodlines in the world?”

Rin confirms this with a nod, though she’s still frowning faintly at Obito. “It does. But, Obito, you're lucky dryads are so forgiving.”

“I prefer ‘nature spirit’, please,” Yamato cuts in before she can continue, looking faintly apologetic but mostly firm. “Dryad is a very gender-specific term, given its history, and I like to avoid the confusion it entails.”

Rin’s smile is apologetic and sweet. “Of course. Sorry, Yamato. But my point stands. Obito, Ibiki nearly put your head through the wall when you did it to him. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Obito smiles back, if rather wanly. “Well, I could hardly know he was a closet case,” he defends, then raises his hands in surrender before she can go off on him again. “But yes, your point is valid and I am very, very sorry and will try not to do it again.”

With a thoughtful hum, Kurenai dumps her breakfast into the garbage, and says, “Oh! Didn’t we get neighbors yesterday?”

Obito winces, and Rin _growls_.

 

“—can't believe you. Just because you have such a weakness for Taylor Swift—”

“Hey! It’s _feel-good_ music, Rin, okay, you don’t see me critiquing your fondness for 80s power ballads—um. Hi, we’re your neighbors. From 305. Er. Is anyone…zombified in there?”

The tall, broad, dark-haired man in the doorway looks them over curiously, eyes lingering on Obito's tightly-clutched towel—Rin wouldn’t spare him the time to dress, because she’s a merciless slave-driver—and Rin’s Hello Kitty pyjamas for a long moment before he steps back, opening the door wider.

“Yeah, actually,” he says with surprising calm, given what he just admitted to. “Both of my roommates. They just suddenly froze up.”

“Not so suddenly,” Rin mutters a little sourly, wavering on the threshold as Obito slinks into the other apartment. “About halfway through the second chorus, unless I miss my guess. Ah…I'm sorry to be a pain, but could you invite me in?”

That gets her another look, a little closer this time, but the man yields easily enough. “Vampire, huh? Come on in. If you can snap them out of it before their first classes, I’ll be grateful. Asuma Sarutobi, by the way.”

“Rin Nohara,” she offers in return, stepping in and then turning a much sharper stare on Obito. “And _that_ is Obito Uchiha, the culprit. I'm really sorry. I forgot there were people moving in or I would have gagged him this morning.”

“Hey,” Obito protests, but it’s weak. “It’s a habit, okay? And I already said I'm _sorry_ , so—oh. Um.”

Apparently he caught this particular guy halfway through a workout video, which Asuma has apparently politely paused. But no workout video Obito is familiar with has ever called for that particular shade of green spandex bodysuit, which is…definitely unique.

Asuma sighs softly. “This is Gai,” he says. “Don’t mind the clothes. Kakashi is on the couch.”

With porn, if Obito recognizes that particular book cover correctly. He makes a face, leaning over the sprawled-out man—and really, who has _white_ hair, outside of octogenarians?—and checking his face for any signs of life. There are none, unfortunately, which means he’s fairly deep in a thrall, unlike Gai, who’s already stirring faintly. As far as Obito has been able to figure out through trial and error (because he can't even remember his mother’s face, let alone whether she ever gave him a “Facts of Life for Little Sirens” lecture), it mostly has to do with the…er, victim’s level of attraction to men. Asuma’s definitely one hundred percent straight. Gai likely has experimented, but is mostly into women. This guy—Kakashi—is probably gayer than rainbows, since even Obito's presence isn’t making him twitch.

“Well?” Rin asks sharply.

Obito was most certainly _not_ just contemplating the rather appealing angle of Kakashi's jaw. He twitches, and can't quite fight the traitorous flush rising in his cheeks. “Yes!” he squeaks, then chokes, clears his throat, and tries again. “I mean, um, yes, I can definitely break the spell. Just—let me do spandex guy first.”

Asuma looks like he’s about to correct the name, then just snorts softly and murmurs, “Close enough.”

Giving him a slightly sheepish smile, Obito steps in front of Gai and leans in, humming a few bars of the first song he can think of, and then snaps his fingers sharply.

“ _Teardrops on My Guitar_ , really? I'm burning all of your Taylor Swift CDs as soon as we go back,” Rin threatens.

Obito gives her the best glare he can manage past a veneer of wounded dignity. “Who even has CDs anymore, you Paleolithic throwback?” he protests. “And leave me alone! I'm working under pressure here—ACK.”

“Oh, my youthful new friend! I heard your voice in the far reaches of my drowsing mind and am recalled! Thank you for returning me to this world of springtime youthfulness! I am forever grateful!”

Rin blinks, blinks again, and assesses the sight of her best friend being bear-hugged by a man in green spandex. “He’s…?”

“Human, as far as anyone else can tell.” Asuma sounds incredibly amused. “Gai, he still needs to wake Kakashi up. And his towel is slipping.”

“Such brave, bold, youthful attire!” Gai acknowledges cheerfully, setting Obito back on his feet as the shorter man scrambles to re-knot the valiantly clinging terrycloth at his waist. “Truly, your hip coolness must be on par with my Eternal Rival Kakashi's, to venture out dressed like that!”

“Right,” Obito says a little faintly, and decides that it’s probably safer for the sanity of all involved if he simply turns his attention on the porn guy. “Er, this one’s in pretty deep. Rin, you might want to hide your delicate lesbian eyes.”

Rin obligingly—and swiftly—slaps her hands over her face, and turns away for good measure. “Really?” she complains. “This is your solution?”

Obito shoots her an annoyed look, futile as it is. “Would you rather I charmed the entire apartment building trying to de-thrall him the other way?” he retorts, then shifts his attention to the white-haired man. He hums once to find a tune, and shifts his voice into a sing-song rhythm to echo it. “Hello, Kakashi. You can hear me, can't you? Can you stand up for me? I'm waiting for you.”

Languidly, Kakashi sets his book aside, sits up, and then rises smoothly to his feet, eyes fixed unerringly on Obito's face. It’s a little disconcerting, since most people tend to stare dreamily into space once they're enthralled, but Obito pushes the thought down and centers himself in front of Kakashi.

Of course the bastard is taller than him, too. It just figures.

(And those cheekbones are really pretty, aren’t they?)

Before he can do something that he’ll probably regret and Rin will never let him live down—like compel Kakashi to give Obito his number while he’s still in a trance—Obito leans up and presses a quick, mortifyingly clumsy kiss to Kakashi's soft lips.

And then he squawks, flails, and almost falls over, because someone just _groped his ass_.

With an interested hum, Kakashi wraps an arm around his waist, saving him from falling, and smoothly uses the same motion to tug him in close, until they're pressed chest-to-chest. That other hand settles on the curve of his hip, just low enough to be inappropriate, and the asshole is _smirking at him_.

Okay, that’s it. He’s getting his eardrums ruptured, just as soon as…

As…

Wow, okay. The man’s maybe sort of passably decent as kissing. Not that it makes up for the blatant porn, but, well, Obito could possibly be convinced.

Maybe. If Kakashi's willing to buy him dinner first. Possibly cough up for a movie, too. No one has ever accused Obito of being easy.

“Well,” Kakashi all but purrs as they separate. “I've heard people say ‘hark, the herald angel sings’, but I never realized that angel was going to be my knight in shining terrycloth, too. How about dinner? Tomorrow?”

“I'm free at seven. And it’s ‘hark, the herald angels _sing_ ’,” Obito corrects automatically, and then what he heard finally registers in his brain.

Two equally bad come-ons in less than thirty words. That’s got to be some kind of record.

And that hand is _still_ on his ass.

With a sharp growl, he stomps on Kakashi's foot with all of his might, glorying in the yelp of pain he gets in response. The bastard’s hold on him loosens and Obito wastes no time wriggling free and snagging Rin’s arms. She’s decent as a shield, when she wants to be, and judging by the hawk-like way she’s staring at Kakashi, she’s either about to eviscerate him or matchmake. Obito isn’t entirely certain which option terrifies him more.

“Okay,” he says brightly, heading for the door at a speed just under a bolt. “Sorry about this, I’ll try to control myself better in the future. Bye!”

The towel slips. Rin squeaks and covers her eyes again, and Obito freezes, torn between moving and subsequently making it worse, and abandoning dignity altogether in a headlong flight for home.

Smiling genially, Kakashi saunters up, hooks a finger in the loosening folds, and helpfully drags them back up around Obito's waist. He doesn’t resort to creepy behavior again, but says with far more sincerity, “Maa, maybe you can sing for me again sometime. I enjoyed it.”

No one has ever said that to Obito before. Never. It’s…astonishing.

Another faint, warm brush of lips, a murmured, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven, then,” and then Kakashi is gone, strolling into one of the bedrooms with a wave and a cheerful smile.

Somehow, Obito gets the feeling that this is just the beginning.

And he is definitely, certainly, _absolutely_ not looking forward to whatever Kakashi will do next.


End file.
